


One Thousand Ways to Say I Love You

by Hazel_Athena



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Ensemble Cast, Fluff, M/M, ficlet prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-06 15:04:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18853489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hazel_Athena/pseuds/Hazel_Athena
Summary: Because I needed a place to collect all the ficlets I have scattered about Tumblr. Mostly Malex, but there’s at least one Mylex prompt if that’s your thing.





	1. “You can sit in my lap until I’m done working”

Alex is trying to work.

 _Trying_ being the operative word because Michael is around and in want of attention.

“You invited me!” Michael protests when Alex points this out. He flops onto the couch with a dramatic, heaving sigh, going so far as to fling an arm over his face while he kicks his feet like a petulant toddler. “You’re not a very good host if you’re not even going to acknowledge me while I’m here.”

“I told you to come by around eight,” Alex reminds him, barely looking up from his computer monitor, “and I specifically told you that because I had something I wanted to finish up first. It’s barely a quarter past seven, Guerin.”

“Oh we’re back to Guerin now, are we?” Alex doesn’t have to glance at him this time to be able to tell Michael’s pouting. “I thought we were dropping that as part of this whole ‘fresh start’ thing we’re trying.”

“You better not be doing air quotes right now,” Alex says absently, still without raising his head. Michael knows how he feels about treating this thing between them seriously.

There is a decidedly guilty silence, and Michael gives him his best puppy dog eyed expression when he shifts to look over. Combined with the deliberate sag of his shoulders and the way his unruly curls are falling into his eyes, it’s a picture designed to be an attack on Alex’s better judgement.

Sighing, he rolls his chair back from his desk, but doesn’t stand. Instead, he motions Michael towards him with one hand. “C’mere.”

Michael apparently doesn’t have to be told twice. Grinning like a man feeling victorious, he pushes himself up off the couch and crosses the short distance between them, somehow still managing to saunter over despite the fact that it takes him all of three steps.

“I’m here,” he says when he comes to a stop, as if on the off chance Alex might not have noticed. “How do you want me?”

There’s a decidedly smutty lilt in his voice, leaving Alex torn between laughing or rolling his eyes. He settles on neither, however, and gestures at his lap in response. “Sit.”

Obediently, Michael plants himself on top of him, dropping down to sit with his back to Alex’s front. The chair groans under their combined weight, but holds, and Alex then wheels them back over to the desk.

“Hang on,” Michael says when he rests his right hand on the keyboard to continue scrolling through the report he’d been reading. “I thought we were going to have sex?”

Alex sends a quiet prayer for patience to any passing deity who might be listening, be they of this world or another. “It’s certainly a possibility,” he says, scanning the screen for the part of the document he’d left off on. “Not yet though.”

Michael wriggles in a way that’s no doubt designed to cause a distraction. Then he huffs out an annoyed noise when his doing so has no effect. “Why am I here?”

Alex hums thoughtfully before lightly tapping a few buttons on his keyboard. “Do you mean why are you here in my home, or why are you here specifically?”

Michael squirms again. “The second one.”

Unable to resist, Alex presses a quick kiss to his cheek and gives him a pat with his free hand. “Because you want attention, while I need to finish this. Call it a compromise. You can sit in my lap until I’m done working.”

“It should take me maybe a half an hour, tops,” he adds quickly, already anticipating Michael’s next question. “Less than that if you stay quiet and don’t distract me every five seconds.”

Michael doesn’t answer, and he doesn’t try to move away. Deciding to take his wins where he can find them, Alex focuses back on the report, paging through it with one hand while holding onto his lapful of somewhat confused alien with the other.

To his credit, Michael proceeds to last longer than Alex is expecting him to. Near silence descends over the room, so that for several minutes the only sounds are their intermingled breathing and the occasional click of Alex’s keyboard. Then Michael moves.

“This is weird,” he grunts, tilting his head back so it falls against Alex’s shoulder. “It’s all domestic and shit.”

Even though he knows he shouldn’t, Alex takes a moment to bury his face in Michael’s curls while the opportunity presents itself. “I think domestic sounds nice,” he murmurs, chuckling when some of the more riotous strands brush against his mouth. “Don’t you?”

Michael doesn’t answer right away, and when he does he sounds grudging. “I guess.”

Alex laughs, he can’t help it. Smacking a kiss onto the top of Michael’s head, he straightens up with every intention of getting back to work. “I’m like three quarters of the way through at this point. You won’t have to wait much longer.”

He’s expecting Michael to huff and sigh at this, but what he actually does is start struggling to free himself from Alex’s hold. “Where do you think you’re going?” He asks, honestly a little annoyed. He’d been enjoying having Michael in his arms like this.

The resulting answer surprises him. “Nowhere,” Michael says firmly, and when he stands he only stays on his feet long enough to turn around before collapsing down on top of Alex again, arranging it so this time they’re sitting chest to chest.

“That’s better,” he says contentedly. He then proceeds to loop his arms around Alex’s shoulders and shove his face into the crook of his neck. “Let me know when you’re done.”

His breath ghosts over Alex’s skin as he speaks, making him shiver slightly. Telling himself to get a grip, he wraps a hand around Michael’s back, using it to hold him more securely in place. “Will do,” he agrees, somewhat glad Michael can’t see the no doubt ridiculous smile on his face.

The report hasn’t changed when he returns his attention to it. It spreads across the screen exactly like it’s supposed to, detailing a number of important facts pertaining to what his father’s been up to since their last encounter.

Without meaning to, he starts trailing his hand up and down Michael’s back as he reads, sweeping it back and forth in a repeating arc that’s more than appreciated if the pleased noise the other man lets out is anything to go by. Absently, he thinks he could get used to this.

It takes him a few minutes longer than predicted to finish reading, such that the clock reads 8:07 by the time he’s done. Surprisingly, Michael doesn’t start prodding him the second he goes past his stated timeframe. In fact, he doesn’t do anything at all.

Stopping the petting he’s continued almost without realizing it, Alex leans back in his seat, pleased to have his task completed. “Alright,” he says aloud, “what do you want to do now that’s over with?”

Rather than answer him, Michael lets out a quiet snore.

Laughing to himself, Alex resolves to have him stay where he is for as long as he likes, and queues up another document.


	2. “No, no - it’s alright, come here”

Initially when Alex wakes, he’s too groggy to tell what’s caused it. He lies there on his side, peering blearily over at the window where the sky is still pitch black, honestly unable to comprehend what’s happening.

Then he hears the shrill, plaintive wail that had woken him a second time.

“Shit,” he mutters, still more asleep than not. A quick glance at the clock near his head reveals it’s exactly 3:24am in the morning, and he groans as he starts the process of extricating himself from the bed covers.

Before he can manage that, though, there’s a soft chuckle from behind him, and the bed dips when Michael rolls over to smack a kiss more or less in the vicinity of his temple. “Stay where you are,” he says, laughter evident in his voice. “I’ve got this.”

“You did the last one,” Alex protests. Or tries to, really. He’s not entirely sure he gets all the words out, let alone in the right order. One would’ve thought his time in the service would’ve prepared him for the hours they’re suddenly keeping, but no. A couple years into civilian life and now he needs a solid eight hours a night to be able to be a functional human.

It’s possible he’s said this last part aloud if Michael’s ensuing bark of laughter is anything to go by. He feels a hand reach out to pat him twice on the shoulder before the mattress wobbles again when the other man climbs to his feet.

“Go back to sleep, babe,” Michael says over his shoulder, right as another, even more demanding wail sounds out. He then hurriedly opens the bedroom door to step out into the hallway, calling as he goes. “I’m comin’, sweetheart. Won’t be long, I promise!”

The door snaps shut behind him, making it so that Alex can only barely hear his footsteps as he shuffles down the hallway. His words when he reaches his destination, however, come through loud and clear over the monitor.

“Now, what’s all this then?” He asks, and Alex can easily picture the sappy grin creasing his face as he hunches over the side of the crib. “Having a bad night, are we? No no - it’s alright, come here.”

There’s a shuffling sound, probably that of tiny blankets being cast aside, and the irate shrieks that have raised them both from their most recent round of slumber fade into a series of choked off whimpers.

“Mhm,” Michael says, as if every one of the noises is a completely coherent sentence. “I know, I know, you’re having a bad go of it, aren’t you? So, what’s the problem then? Not wet, I see, and my amazing company doesn’t seem to be doing much for you, which means you’re probably not lonely. I’m gonna go out on a limb then and guess it’s food you’re after.”

Even in his barely conscious state, Alex could have told him that. He doesn’t remember ticking off ‘must have the appetite of a garbage disposal’ on the adoption forms, but somehow they’d managed it anyway. He’d had no idea something so little could eat so much. Or so often.

Michael’s left the second bedroom by now. Alex can barely hear him whistling a tune he doesn’t recognize, which means he must have reached the kitchen at this point. That’s good, that’s where the bottles are.

Alex drifts right on the edge of sleep for a few moments, but tired as he is it doesn’t seem quite ready to reclaim him. Fighting back a groan he wriggles his way free from the blankets, climbing to his feet so he make his way out of the room.

Unsurprisingly, he hears Michael before he sees him. The man’s voice drifts out from the kitchen doorway, and Alex doesn’t bother trying to keep a besotted smile from crossing his face when the words reach him.

“Yeah, girl, I hear you,” he’s saying, still keeping up his end of the conversation. “It’s comin’, I swear, but you’ve gotta give it time, make sure its the right temperature. That kind of thing. Otherwise you’re not gonna like what you end up with.”

“She has no idea what you’re saying,” Alex says, the last word getting lost in the enormous yawn he can’t manage to contain. “She’s three months old.”

Michael briefly glances his way from where he’s heating the bottle on the stove. His ensuing grin is in direct contrast to the glare Cecily gives him from where she’s nestled in the crook of his arm. “Pretty sure she heard that.”

Alex shrugs and shuffles further into the room until he can drop down onto one of their tiny kitchen chairs. “I’d be worried if, again, she had any idea what I was saying. Also, it’s 3:30 in the morning, my manners are only so good at this hour.”

Michael gives him a vague ‘touché’ gesture before shifting his attention back to the stove, bouncing Cecily gently when she starts to fuss. “Just a little longer, gorgeous. Then you can eat.”

“She’s good at that,” Alex murmurs. “And you’re good with her.”

Michael smiles, one of the rare ones that doesn’t have so much as a hint of the usual cocky edge to it. “So are you,” he says.

“Sure,” Alex agrees because while he might not always feel that way, deep down he at least suspects it’s true. “But my point stands.”

Whatever answer Michael might be about to make is cut off when the timer on the stove chimes. Immediately zeroing his attention onto the task at hand, he moves the bottle without touching it, flipping it up to test the milk’s temperature on the inside of his wrist.

“That’s cheating,” Alex says, watching the bottle hover in a way that allows Michael to make sure it’s ready, while at the same time maintain a secure hold on the now squirming baby.

“Well, yeah,” Michael says, blatantly unrepentant. “What’re you going to do about it?”

Alex snorts. “You ask that like I have the energy to do anything about anything.” He straightens up and holds out his hands. “Give her here. I’ll feed her.”

“You sure?” Michael asks, and then he snickers at Alex’s resulting glower. “Okay, you’re sure.”

Cecily grumbles as she’s passed over, but settles quickly enough, especially once Michael sends the bottle after her. She latches on without issue, drinking greedily as soon as it’s within reach.

“Kid’s got a healthy appetite,” Michael murmurs. Rather than taking a chair for himself, he’s come up behind Alex to rest his hands atop of his shoulders. “Wonder where she gets that from?”

“Pretty sure most babies like to eat,” Alex replies absently, too caught up in watching Cecily drain her meal to turn around and look at him properly. “I think it’s kind of their thing.”

Michael hums in response, and Alex isn’t surprised when after a few seconds he feels lips press against the sensitive patch of skin right below his ear. “Love you,” Michael murmurs into his skin, “and her and us. This is good.”

As sleep deprived as he is, Alex can’t disagree.


	3. “I’m staking a claim”

“And what brings you two in here tonight? Together, I mean. Guerin’s presence at least isn’t much of a surprise. Not in general, anyway.”

Alex looks up from where he’s been studiously contemplating the bar countertop, just in time to hear Michael make some facetious comment that sees Maria snort and roll her eyes.

“I highly doubt that’s the case,” she drawls, and Alex wishes he’d been paying enough attention to catch Michael’s exact words. Unfortunately, his mind had been elsewhere. “What do you two really want? And don’t say free booze, Guerin. It’s not happening.”

“Hey, I could be good for it,” Michael protests, snickering in all evidence to the contrary. Then he jerks his head towards Alex, sending his wild curls bouncing with the force of the motion. “Honestly, if you want to know why we’re here, ask this one. He told me to meet him for seven. All I did was show up.”

“Uh huh,” Maria sounds skeptical when she speaks, drawing the syllables out the way she does when she thinks someone’s having her on. Clearly not trusting what Michael’s saying, she turns to Alex. “Well,” she says expectantly. “Do you have anything to add to that?”

In response, Alex takes a deep, fortifying breath, and reaches into his coat pocket for something. “He’s telling the truth,” he says, his gut lurching slightly when he finds what he’s after. “I didn’t tell him what I’m doing, or why I wanted him here for it.”

Now Maria looks confused, maybe a little alarmed, and even Michael’s usual cocky grin has faded to be replaced by an expression that’s much more guarded. Dimly, Alex hopes he doesn’t think he’s dragged him out here to publicly reveal the whole alien thing.

He’s about to publicly reveal something, he thinks kind of hysterically, but that’s not it.

Taking a deep breath, he pulls Maria’s necklace free, and slaps it down on the counter. “We wanted to return this,” he says over the sound of it rattling in the thankfully empty bar. “Figured you’d want it back.”

Maria picks up the necklace. She twists it around her fingers a few times, at first appearing almost contemplative, before shooting Michael a vicious glare. “I told you not to tell anybody,” she hisses. “What? You think I actually want people knowing what happened?”

Michael jerks like he’s been slapped, and Alex suddenly feels a lot less nervous as he watches a hurt look flash across his face. It’s brief, there and gone within an instant, but that doesn’t make it any less real, or make Alex feel any less guilty. After all, he’s at least partly responsible for putting the idea into Michael’s head that he’s meant to be used and left as soon as someone’s done with him.

Which is probably why he snaps with more force than necessary when he wraps his knuckles on the counter to get Maria’s attention. “He’s not a dirty little secret,” he growls, because it’s high time he more than anybody made that clear. “Not even remotely.”

Then, to better illustrate his point, he shifts his hand to curl it over Michael’s. Their eyes meet - Michael’s expression is genuinely poleaxed - and Alex gives him a reassuring smile before turning back to Maria.

“I’m not here to judge your decisions, or whatever,” he says as firmly as he can muster. “I’m here because I’m staking a claim.”

“You’re - oh my god, Alex Manes!” Leaning over the bar, she slaps him heavily upside the head. Ignoring his pained yelp and Michael’s startled exclamation, she shakes a finger forcefully at him. “Museum guy is Michael Guerin. Michael. Guerin. Ten years I’ve been trying to get that out of you, and this is how you choose to spring it on me? You bastard!”

“You told her about the Emporium?” Michael asks. “Really?”

“He did,” Maria confirms. Nodding so hard her hair bounces, she jabs Alex in the chest, still with the same finger. “In fact, I believe his exact words were ...”

 _Oh no_. “Maria,” he pleads weakly. “Don’t tell him.”

But it’s too late. Clearly feeling he deserves the embarrassment for being a brat, she actually sticks her tongue out at him before finishing. “... that he’d stay in Roswell forever so long as you kept kissing him.”

Michael makes a noise that’s one part victory and one part delight. “Really?” He asks. “Reallllly?” He cackles when Alex nods weakly, and reaches over to ruffle his good hand through Alex’s hair. “Manes, you romantic.”

“Not sure romantic is the word I’d go with,” Maria says dryly. “More like pathetic. At least dramatic.”

“It’s my relationship,” Michael informs her. “I can call it what I want.”

“I see,” Maria replies, while Alex is too caught up in the use of the word ‘relationship’ to do anything other than sit there and smile stupidly. She gives him a knowing look. “So this is for real then?”

“Yeah,” Alex says, shaking himself out of his stupor. He bumps his arm against Michael’s, pleased when the other man curls in to rest his chin on his shoulder. “It’s for real.”

“I see,” she repeats, and her eyes narrow. “Was it for real when the ... incident happened involving Guerin and I?”

“No,” Alex says quickly. “Nobody did anything wrong there, least of all him,” he adds, bringing his hand up to give Michael an awkward pat. “I needed to get the fuck over myself at that point.”

Michael mashes his face into the crook of Alex’s neck, mumbling something he can’t make out. His posture is relaxed though, so Alex is assuming he’s at least pleased with where the night has taken them.

Maria, however, scowls. “Stop being cute, Guerin. I don’t like it.”

Michael mutters something unintelligible, but does pull back a little. Alex uses the opportunity to press a fleeting kiss to his jaw. “He can’t help it, he’s always cute.”

Maria makes a disgusted face and an equally disgusted noise. “Alex,” she barks over Michael’s hooting laugh. “I’m having enough trouble getting this news to sink in. Stop making it worse.”

“Alright,” she says when Alex shrugs. “So this a thing. A potentially serious thing. Fine. Guerin,” she adds stiffly, and Alex knows her well enough to tell she’s being sincere when she speaks, “I’m sorry for implying sex with you was the worst thing to ever happen to me. You were maybe not terrible.”

“Having said that,” she raises her voice slightly to be heard over Michael’s victory crow and jerks her thumb in Alex’s direction. “If you hurt him, I’ll break your other hand.”

“Maria,” Alex exclaims, horrified. It’s a terrible joke even without her knowing the true context of Michael’s injury. Never mind the fact that he’s perfectly capable of defending himself. “That’s not funny!”

She has the grace to look at least a little ashamed. “I guess not,” she admits, “but my point stands.” This time it’s Michael she shakes her finger at. “Hurt him and you’re dead, Guerin. You won’t be able to run far enough to hide.”

Michael arches an eyebrow, as if daring her to try and see how far he can run, but rather than do so, he nods. “It’s a deal,” he says quietly.

Maria’s look sharpens, as if she’s annoyed that she can’t find any fault in Michael’s words. Then she shakes her head. “Okay, good. Now, earth shattering news aside, I guess I can be convinced to offer you each a drink on the house as congratulations. What do you feel like?”

“Nothing,” Alex says, holding up a hand to stop Michael before he can ask for anything. “We’re not staying.”

“Alex,” Michael pouts. “Free booze!”

“I didn’t drag you out here to drink. I did it so we could clear the air between the three of us,” Alex informs him. “We’ve got other things to do tonight.”

“Oh, ew,” Maria says, and the disgusted look is back on her face. “Get the hell out of my bar, you animals.”

“Come on,” Alex says. Tugging Michael up by the elbow, he drags him off his stool in the direction of the exit. “I’ll convince her to give you a free drink another time, okay?”

“I’m gonna hold you to that,” Michael insists.

“Fair enough,” Alex replies absently. He’s pretty sure he’s just seen Kyle’s ride pulling up outside, and it makes him walk even faster. “Hurry up. I don’t feel like dealing with Kyle being all smug about convincing me to go talk to you in the first place. Let’s get out of here.”

He comes to an abrupt halt when Michael jolts to a stop. “Wait. I have Valenti to thank for this? Aww, man. Why’d you have to tell me that? Now you’ve tainted everything.”

No longer caring that they’re in the middle of the parking lot where anybody could happen by to see them, Alex twists so that he can cup Michael’s face in his hands. “Are you sure about that?”

Michael leans into the kiss as eagerly as ever, maybe even moreso. He sighs happily when their lips meet, and opens easily when Alex licks into his mouth.

“And Max says nothing can shut me up,” he says cheekily when the need to breathe forces them apart. His grin fades almost as quickly as it’d appeared though. “So.”

“So?” Alex echoes, suddenly wondering if he’s overstepped his bounds. “Was this too much?”

“No!” Michael says hurriedly. “Fuck. No. It’s just, and, god, please don’t take this the wrong way because I swear I don’t want to stop, but...” He bites his lip to cut off the steady stream of babble spilling loose. Then, after visibly getting a grip on himself he says quietly. “You said you needed time to process ... everything. This isn’t taking time, Alex. This is rushing into it full steam ahead.”

“... oh,” Alex says, relieved that that’s the extent of the problem. Idly, he strokes the curve of Michael’s jaw with a thumb. “Right, so, the bar parking lot is absolutely not the place for this conversation. Can we go back to my place? I’ve got something I need to show you.”

“If it’s what you have in your pants I’ve already - “

“Michael!”

“Okay, okay,” shaking free of Alex’s grip, Michael winks at him. “Personally, I think my suggestion is better, but sure. We can go back to your place and you can show me ... whatever you want to show me.”

Alex snorts. He’d specifically said need instead of want because he has no desire whatsoever to hand Michael the last piece of the console so he can disappear on him. On the other hand, he owes it to him to give him the option.

“I don’t care about what you are,” he says   
firmly, shaking Michael by the shoulder for added measure. “And I mean it when I say this isn’t the place for this discussion, but you need to know - what I needed to take in wasn’t that you’re ... what you are, it was that I might lose you so quickly after getting you back.”

“I’m still not okay with that for the record,” he says quickly, “but what I’m going to do is enjoy whatever time you let me have. After that. Well. I’ll figure it out.”

“Alex -“ Michael starts. His eyes are huge, and he’s suddenly griping Alex’s coat like it’s a lifeline. “I didn’t - I’m not -“

“Not. Here.” Alex reminds him. If they’re going to have this talk, he needs to be able to put all his cards on the table, and he can’t do that without his piece of alien tech. “Just follow me. Please.”

Nodding, Michael does as he asks.

 

 


	4. “I didn’t come here for sex, you know?@

“I didn’t come here for sex, you know?”

Maria glances up from where she’s been pretending to wipe down the counter top so she wouldn’t have to watch Michael walk away. He’s standing mere feet from the exit, his back to her and ramrod straight.

“What?” She asks tiredly, just wanting to have this conversation be over with. “What did you say?”

“I said I didn’t come here for sex,” he repeats. He turns around slowly, and when he does Maria wishes he hadn’t. For once in his life, he isn’t trying to hide what he’s feeling behind a cocky attitude, and all she sees is pain writ large across his features.

He’s still Michael Guerin, though, and still stubborn as hell. No doubt that’s why he stands his ground as he lets her look at him, laying himself bare so she can make of him what she wants.

“I came here,” he says slowly, stuttering a little over his words, “because I didn’t know where else to go. You said nothing would happen again, and even if Alex wasn’t back and fucking with my head that’d still be fine because it’s your choice, but - “

“But?” She echoes when he falls silent.

He looks her in the eye, and squares his shoulders like a man preparing to get hit. “But I thought we were friends,” he says softly, he words landing like a punch to the gut, “and I could use one of those right now. I just wanted someone to talk to. I didn’t realize that wasn’t allowed anymore either.”

Maria stares at him, honestly having no idea what to say, and Michael must take that in and of itself for an answer. His shoulders sagging, he exhales heavily and begins to turn back towards the door.

“Wait,” Maria says, knowing full well that if she lets him walk out she’ll be committing an even worse error than she had previously. “Guerin, get back here.”

He pauses, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot when she doesn’t immediately say anything else. “Okay?” He tries, eyes narrowing as he clearly waits for her to put forward something relevant.

Since she can’t leave him hanging, Maria meets his gaze levelly. “I’m sorry,” she says, feeling even worse when his eyes widen in surprise. “I didn’t realize - but I shouldn’t have just assumed either.”

“I meant what I said about nothing happening between us again, but not because I’m ashamed of you, or whatever. Yeah, I don’t actually think we’d be good for each other that way, but more than anything, I’m not going to do that to Alex.”

“Alex left,” Michael replies, and now his expression is clouding over while he tries to cover up his hurt. “Walked out yet again, just like he always does.”

Maria snorts, suddenly feeling a bit more like she’s on solid ground. “You didn’t see him when he was in here earlier,” she says. “My guess is he’s as messed up about this thing as you are, but I don’t think leaving’s his intention.”

Mustering up a faint grin, she leans over the counter to wrap her knuckles against the closest bar stool. “So. Get your ass over here and tell me about your boy troubles. Maybe what you two clowns need is an outside observer to help you get your shit together.”

Michael makes a face, but rather than move to leave, he shuffles closer as indicated. “When I said I wanted to talk, I more so meant I wanted to get drunk and maudlin without actually saying any words. You know that, right?”

“My bar, my rules, Guerin.” Grabbing a couple of bottles from the nearest shelf, she offers one to him as he sits down. “On the house,” she promises. “For real this time.”

“Can I drink it and not talk?” He asks, not looking overly hopeful.

And nor should he. Maria pierces him with a look. “What do you think?”

Michael huffs out a dramatic sigh, but she can tell it’s all for show. His posture is less stiff, if not relaxed completely, and there seems to be genuine humour in the resigned grin he shoots her way. “What do you want to know?”

Grinning herself, Maria rests her elbows on the table and waits for him to speak.

 


	5. “All I want right now is a drink and someone to cuddle with”

  
Alex is staring at a set of design specs, trying to figure out what they might be for, when he hears the sound of his front door opening and closing. “That had better be you, Michael,” he calls out, not bothering to look up from what he’s doing yet.

“It is,” Michael’s voice is muffled since he’s at the opposite end of the house, but it’s definitely him. “No one’s randomly breaking and entering, I promise.”

Relieved he doesn’t have to try and cover up what he’s working on, Alex chews absently on a fingernail. “I thought you weren’t coming by for a couple more hours?”

There’s a pause, followed by an almost guilty silence, and then he hears, “I know, but I’ve had a rough day and honestly all I want right now is a drink and someone to cuddle with. Figured I’d come early.”

Michael’s voice gets louder the further he makes his way into the cabin, but he comes to an abrupt halt when he passes through the office doorway and finds Kyle standing by the desk with Alex. His cheeks turn an incredible shade of red, and he stuffs his hands in his pockets like he suddenly has no idea what to do with them. “Uh.”

The room is silent for several long moments, only to have the quiet broken by Kyle opening his arms. “Well, come on then, Guerin,” he says cheekily. “Come get a hug.”

Alex elbows him in the stomach. Hard. He doubles over, wheezing as he tries to get his breath back. “Damnit, Manes. I didn’t see you moving to do what he asked, and he didn’t specify who he wanted to cuddle with.”

“It was implied,” Michael snaps, his face still heavily tinted. “The hell are you doing here, Valenti?”

“He was helping me go over some blueprints,” Alex cuts in smoothly, wanting to divert Michael before he gets too worked up. “You can do that now, though, because he’s going to go get you a beer.”

“I am?” Kyle asks. His breathing once again under control, he thumps himself in the chest, as if confirming that point for his own benefit. “Why am I doing that then?”

“Because I said so,” Alex replies. He jerks his head towards the hallway. “Go.”

Muttering to himself about ungrateful aliens and their equally ungrateful boyfriends, Kyle shuffles out of the room. “I want you to know I’m doing this under duress!”

“Don’t care!” Alex calls after him. Then he motions towards Michael. “Come here, you. What’s up?”

Michael steps further into the room, but stops right out of reach. “Nothing much,” he says with a shrug. “Had kind of a shitty day today, you know?”

As someone who’s had a plethora of shitty days in his time, Alex does indeed know. “Anything I can do to help?”

Michael gives him a look like he thinks that should be obvious, but given that he’s stilling standing out of range, Alex feels justified in raising an inquiring eyebrow at him. “Use your words, Guerin.”

Blowing a heavy breath out through his nose, Michael takes the final two steps necessary to put himself within reaching distance, but neglects to initiate any touching, probably because he knows Kyle could be back at any moment. Sometimes Alex despairs of him.

“Michael,” Alex sighs.

A stubborn look crosses Michael’s face. However, whatever he might be about to say is interrupted by the sound of a throat clearing. They both turn around to find Kyle holding up an unopened beer bottle.

“As per His Majesty’s request,” he says, snickering. Although which of them he’s referring to is anybody’s guess. “Will there be anything else?”

Rather than answer verbally, Michael flares at him, and snaps his fingers. Kyle lets out a startled yelp when the beer he’s holding moves seemingly of its own volition to swoop across the room. “Man, you know I hate it when you do that!”

Michael grins at him, and salutes him with the bottle. “Which is why I do it,” he says glibly, a feeling of impish delight evident in his expression. The image is ruined, however, when Alex curls an arm around him to tuck him up against his side, and he squeaks in surprise.

“I seem to remember saying you wanted to be cuddled,” Alex says primly, laughing when Michael shoots him a betrayed look. “This isn’t good enough?”

Michael makes a grumbling noise, but doesn’t pull away. “It’s fine,” he says. “I could just do without the audience is all,” he adds, jerking his head towards Kyle, as if on the off chance Alex didn’t know who he was referring to.

Alex leans in to nuzzle the side of his face, grinning when Michael responds by burrowing even more tightly against him. “Kyle was just leaving,” he says. “He has other plans.”

“Yeah,” Kyle agrees, and when Alex glances over, he looks vaguely nauseated. “Like scrubbing his eyes with bleach to try to burn away this picture. Not because of the whole guy thing,” he’s quick to add, something like guilt flashing across his face. “It’s just, y’know. Public affection. Ew.”

“Right,” Alex drawls. He’s not offended, he and Kyle are good now, but he is a little amused. More importantly, he wants some privacy. “Goodnight, Kyle.”

“It’s 4:30 in the afternoon,” Kyle points out, but he’s halfway out of the room when he says it. Lucky for him too since Michael looks like he’s contemplating chucking his beer bottle at him.

“Wouldn’t be worth it,” Alex says when he notices this. “You might miss, and even if you didn’t you’d just have to listen to him complain.”

Michael sighs and knocks back a heavy swing of his beer. “I think I liked him better as a teenage douchebag.”

Alex sincerely doubts that, and even if it’s true, he himself most decidedly hadn’t. On the other hand, he’s got no interest in talking about Kyle now that he’s going. Wrapping his arms more securely around Michael’s waist, he lets his fingertips graze over his wrist, right where his sleeve has ridden up. “You want to tell me about your day?”

Michael sighs. “Not really,” he admits. “I’d rather just forget it happened and start over.”

Alex hums thoughtfully, knowing better than to pry. Michael will tell him what’s bothering him when he’s good and ready, and until then it’s best to just leave him be and let him find comfort however he sees fit. Smiling softly to himself, he kisses the hinge of Michael’s jaw and then returns to what he was doing.


	6. “Shh, you’re safe. I won’t let you go”

Michael’s in a cage.

It’s not even a cell, being too short for him to properly stand up in, it’s a flat out cage. He’s curled up at the very back of it, with his knees pulled up his chest and his arms wrapped around them, bare feet poking out from the threadbare remains of his jeans.

Michael’s in a cage, but more importantly, he won’t come out.

“It’s probably the drugs,” Kyle says after they’ve spent god knows how long trying unsuccessfully to coax him through the wide open door. “Your dad pumped such a mixture of crap into him, I doubt he knows if he’s coming or going.”

Alex scowls at the mention of his father. He’s somewhere else in the facility, possibly already dead at Max Evans’ hands if the way the lights keep flickering is anything to go by, and Alex finds he genuinely does not care. He can’t, not after this.

But that’s an issue for a later time. Brushing that thought aside, he turns to the remaining member of their side of the rescue team. “Can you get inside his head and convince him this is real?”

Isobel frowns, sweat beading her brow while she concentrates. Then she sighs. “I’ve been trying,” she says weakly, “but - his head is hard for me to be in at the best of times because of how busy his thoughts are. Right now ...”

She trails off with a shrug. “I can tell you he doesn’t think we’re real,” she says sadly. “Convincing him otherwise is beyond me, though.”

There’s a very nasty part of Alex that wants to scowl and ask her what good she is then. Thankfully, he gets the better of himself before he does. “I guess it’s my turn to try. Maybe just talking to him will work.”

Kyle gives him a lopsided grin that doesn’t even come close to reaching his eyes. “If anyone’s getting through to him at this point, I guess it’s you. You need to hurry, though, we only have so much time.”

Not needing the reminder, Alex ignores him in favour of shuffling forward until he can crouch down in front of the cage as well as his bad leg will allow. “Michael,” he says softly, “Michael, I need you to look at me. Can you do that?”

Michael’s got his face buried in his knees, but at the sound of Alex’s voice he peers out over top of them. His eyes are wide and frightened, and he holds Alex’s gaze for only a moment before immediately skittering away again.

“Not real,” he says in a voice so lost sounding that it breaks Alex’s heart. “You’re not real.”

“Yes, I am. I’m real, Michael,” he promises. “And so is Isobel, and Kyle. We’re here to take you away from this place.”

Michael lets out a laugh that’s more hysterical than anything else. “Nope,” he says, giggling horribly. “You’re not. You’re really not. You’re just one of Jesse’s lies again. Like always.”

Alex stretches out his arms, praying to god that the motion doesn’t cause him to overbalance as he holds up his hands for Michael. “I’m here, I’m real. I promise. Come to me and you’ll see.”

He’s not expecting Michael to snort and shoot him a dirty look when he says this, but that’s exactly what happens. “You know I can’t move past the gate unless Jesse’s here,” he says almost snidely. “It’ll hurt if I do.”

“It won’t,” Alex insists, wondering what kind of sick mind games his father’s been playing while he’s had Michael in his clutches. Gingerly, he slides forward a few more inches, careful not to lose his footing in the process. “Everything in here is deactivated now. It can’t do anything to you.”

His words have no effect, doing nothing to calm the frantic look in Michael’s eye. From behind him, Alex hears Isobel cough.

“You need to convince him you’re telling the truth,” she says unhelpfully when Alex cranes his neck around to look at her. Her blonde ponytail bobs up and down as she nods her head. “Hurry up, Manes.”

“Try telling him only something the real you would know,” Kyle suggests. “Something a hallucination wouldn’t.”

Alex groans. “Kyle, a hallucination could say literally anything. It’d come from his mind, remember?”

Kyle’s mouth twists, but he agrees reluctantly.

Turning away from them, Alex focuses his attention back on Michael. “Okay, Guerin,” he says with as much firmness as he can muster. If pleading won’t work, maybe logic will. “Here’s the deal. You say you get hurt when you leave the cage, right?”

“I get zapped,” Michael says helpfully.

Alex has to fight to keep from snarling. Calmness is going to be key here, but it’s hard to hold onto when all he can picture is Michael being tortured. “Okay,” he says again, “and sometimes you get tricked into leaving by being told someone’s here to rescue you. Have I got that right?”

Michael nods, and Alex breathes a sigh of relief.

“Well then,” he points out, “if you leave and nothing happens, won’t that be a sign that this is real? That I’m telling the truth?”

Michael’s expression turns thoughtful. There’s still a heavy hint of fear lurking in its depths, but Alex knows him well enough to know he’s got him. He motions towards himself with his hands.

“Come on, Michael. Come to me.”

Slowly, oh so slowly, Michael starts to shuffle forward. He’s hampered by the fact that his bad hand seems to be stiffer than usual, and at least one of his legs definitely isn’t working right, but he moves.

He pauses with obvious reluctance at the cage door, not yet willing to take the final leap. Alex watches him with bated breath, and it’s without breaking eye contact that Michael finally slips out.

Isobel’s quiet ‘oh thank god’ is the only sound in the room aside from Michael’s ragged breathing, but Alex ignores her. Refusing to take his eyes from Michael, he waits for the other man to skid towards him, gathering him up in his arms as soon as he’s within reach.

“You’re here,” Michael gasps. “You’re here, you’re here, you’re really here.”

“Yeah,” Alex promises, more like vows really. “And I’m never letting you out of my sight again,” he swears as Michael curls against him with a sob.

“Shh, you’re safe. I won’t let you go.” Michael chokes out a whimper at these words, burying his face in the crook of Alex’s neck as he runs a hand in soothing circles over his back. “I’ve got you, sweetheart,” Alex says. “I’ve got you.”


	7. “Mmm ... you’re warm”

Michael is really, quite remarkably drunk. Not, thankfully, the kind of drunk he’s been in the past, the kind that sees him waking up in the tank over at the Sheriff’s office with Max frowning moodily down at him. No, Alex muses as he watches Michael let Liz and Kyle (neither of whom are currently pinnacles of sobriety themselves) spin him around the dance floor, this is just plain old happy drunk.

“Please get that look off your face,” Maria says from where she’s the sole remaining occupant still seated at the table with him. “It’s so sappy, I want to puke just looking at you.”

Alex cranes his neck around to look at her, and gives her his most winning smile. “What happened to you being happy that I’m happy?” He asks in reference to a conversation between them from back when he and Michael had finally sorted out what they are to each other. “You should be supporting me here, DeLuca.”

She sticks her tongue out at him. “There’s happy and then there’s whatever this is. Knock it off, Manes. People are going to start to stare.”

“Let them,” Alex says, unconcerned. “I don’t care.”

Maria pauses with her drink halfway to her mouth, and her lips curve up in a pleased smile. “Okay, teasing aside, I like hearing you talk like that. It’s a good look for you.”

Grinning, Alex salutes her with his beer bottle before turning back to the mess unfolding in front of them. “God, he is such a terrible dancer, isn’t he?”

“Yep,” Maria says, smacking her lips after swallowing her latest gulp. She follows Alex’s gaze to where Liz is trying to convince Michael to sway in tandem with her, and snickers. “You can’t even blame it on the booze. It’s all him.”

As if he can sense them talking about him, Michael pulls his hands free from Liz’s grasp, rotating until he’s facing their table. Catching Alex’s eye, he smiles and starts ambling towards them.

“Heyyy, Private,” he says with something that can only be described as a giggle. “Care for some company?”

Nodding, Alex is about to pull out a chair for him when Michael throws caution to the winds and unceremoniously drops into his lap. The chair creeks ominously beneath their combined weight, but miraculously holds.

Since he has nowhere else to put them, Alex lets his hands settle on Michael’s waist, who apparently takes this as permission to shoves his face into Alex’s neck and nuzzle at his shoulder. “Mmm ... you’re warm.”

Alex laughs, and carefully adjusts his grip to keep Michael from toppling off his lap onto the floor. “So are you,” he says, once he’s sure his hold is secure. “Probably from all that dancing ... for lack of a better word.”

Michael, who’s been happily sagging into Alex’s embrace in a heap so boneless he seems partly liquid, rears upright at this comment. “Are you saying I can’t dance?” He demands, scandalized.

There’s a snort from across the table as Maria takes a hearty gulp from her glass. “If he’s not, I will,” she says firmly. “Guerin, you might be dynamite in the sack, but your skills on the dance floor leave much to be desired. And by much I mean ‘everything’.”

Alex nearly chokes on his beer, while Michael looks like he can’t decide if he should be offended by the insult to his so-called skills, or worried about the reference to the incident in Texas. He shoots Alex a half-panicked look, clearly looking for an appropriate response.

Taking pity on him, Alex pats him gently on one hip. “Sorry, big guy, but I’m going to have to go with Maria on this one. You’ve got two left feet.”

“Maybe it runs in the family,” Maria muses. She runs a nail thoughtfully around the rim of her glass when they both turn to look at her. “Liz says Max can’t dance to save his life. Could be it’s a genetic problem.”

“Isobel can dance,” Michael points out, waving a finger with such emphasis he’s lucky he doesn’t put somebody’s eye out. “She prides herself on it.”

Maria snorts. “Having never seen that I’ll have to take your word for it. Regardless, Guerin, you, personally, cannot dance. Don’t worry, though. I don’t think Alex is going to hold it against you.”

“Never,” Alex promises when Michael gives him a worried look over his shoulder. “Why would I? I can’t dance either.”

“And on that note, I’m out.” Dropping her now empty glass down on the table, Maria pushes her chair back and climbs to her feet. “Sorry, guys. You two are cute and all, but there’s only so much sappiness I can handle in the run of a night. Have fun gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes, or whatever it is you’re about to do.”

“We’re gonna do a lot more than that,” Michael promises with a wink. However, his words would be a lot more convincing if the mere motion didn’t almost completely overbalance him. “Whoops!”

Maria rolls his eyes as Alex scrambles to keep him from doing a header onto the floor. “Guerin, if you can get it up right now, I will honestly be impressed. Do not,” she adds with a hiss, “take that as a suggestion to try.”

“Nice save,” Alex says because when it comes to Michael one never knows. He watches her roll her eyes and walk away, and then turns his attention back to his lapful of sloppy drunk. “You are going to be so hungover tomorrow.”

Michael leans back far enough that Alex starts to worry about having to reel him back in again. “Maybe,” he drawls, flashing Alex a lazy grin, “but do you want to know something?”

“...sure?” Alex says when it becomes clear he’s not going to continue until he’s received an answer. “Go ahead?”

Michael nods solemnly. “I might,” he says with gravitas, “wake up not feeling my best tomorrow, it’s true. But, you wanna know why that’s okay?”

“Do tell,” Alex replies, trying not to laugh.

“Because. It just so happens that I know this kind of amazing guy, let’s call him my boyfriend, and tomorrow morning he’s gonna leave me water and painkillers and if I’m really lucky give me a massage to help with the headache.” Michael wriggles his eyebrows at him. “How’s that sound?”

Alex officially loses the fight on trying not to laugh. “Sounds like you lucked out and snagged yourself a good one,” he says impishly. “Would you agree?”

“‘Course I would,” Michael declares, now leaning back in so he can loop his arms around Alex’s neck and press their foreheads together. “He’s the best.”

“Yeah?” Alex asks. He can’t remember the last time felt this happy, sitting here at a tiny table in a far corner of the Wild Pony, music playing as the rest of the bar keeps going merrily around them. Maybe he never has. “Want to know a secret?”

Michael nods, the motion causing them to bump noses in the process. “Sure. I’m _great_ with secrets.”

“You can actually share this one,” Alex informs him. “I don’t mind. All it is is that I happen to have lucked out in the boyfriend department too.”

It takes far, far longer than it should for what he’s saying to sink into Michael’s alcohol soaked brain. He can tell the exact moment it does, however, because Michael’s entire face lights up and his grin become damn near blinding. “Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” Alex agrees, nodding seriously. “Smart, caring, really hot ... my guy’s got it all. He’s practically out of this world.”

Michael’s resulting shout of laughter draws almost every eye in the bar to them, but Alex couldn’t care less.


	8. “How’d you sleep?”

Kyle wakes slowly, and with a sense of regret for whatever had possessed him to turn the heat on before going to bed. It’s late spring and he lives in Roswell, what had he been thinking?

 

He shifts, fully intending to get up and do something about this, at which point he realizes a) where he is, and b) the actual reason he’s overheating. Laying back, he opens his eyes and peers up at an unfamiliar ceiling, before slowly twisting his neck to take in his surroundings.

 

Alex is on his left, his face peaceful in slumber, lying with one arm tucked up under his pillow. Meanwhile, Michael’s on his right, as well as partially on him period. They’re both acting like a pair of natural blast furnaces, but of the two Michael is worse. Apparently aliens really do run hot. 

 

Ignoring the fact that he may well pass out soon, Kyle tentatively reaches out to brush his fingers along the arm Michael has slung over his chest, smiling stupidly when doing so draws a pleased hum from the other man. It seems he’s not the only one waking. 

 

“You should see if you can get him to roll over,” Alex mumbles, further proving Kyle’s point by opening his eyes when he turns back to look at him. There’s a sparkle there that Kyle hasn’t seen in ages, and the corner of his mouth turns up in a grin. “He likes it when you rub his belly.”

 

“That’s a lie,” Michael says darkly, his voice muffled thanks to the way he’s got his face mashed into Kyle’s shoulder. “Stop spreading rumours.”

 

Alex’s smile widens at Michael’s disgruntled tone, and he silently mouths the words “It’s not” in Kyle’s direction. Unable to keep from grinning back, he makes a note to find out the truth for himself.

 

Later though, because Alex is still speaking, and his eyes have gone soft as he props himself up on one elbow to gaze at Michael. “He also likes it when people stay,” he says.

 

There’s a story there, Kyle can tell; one that at some point he should probably get to the bottom of. For now, however, he’s going to concentrate on the present and the way something so new to him can feel so right.

 

Since he’s already got one hand curled around Michael, he lifts the other to run his fingers over the hinge of Alex’s jaw, feeling something warm pool in the pit of his stomach when the other man nuzzles into his touch.

 

“Morning,” he says for lack of anything better. “How’d you sleep?”

 

“Good,” Alex replies. “What about you? And you?” He adds, careful to include Michael in the question. 

 

“I can’t breathe,” Kyle says honestly. “Guerin is deceptively heavy and the two of you give off enough heat to give the sun a run for its money. That was not a hint to move!”

 

He barks this last line at Michael, who’s started to shift out of his hold with a guilty look on his face. Not having any of it, Kyle tightens his grip to keep him where he is. “Jesus.”

 

“But you said -“

 

“He was joking,” Alex says, speaking up so Kyle doesn’t have to. “I guess we’ll have to work on that.”

 

“Clearly.” Reminding himself that of the three of them he’s the only one who’s really had a successful adult relationship, he almost laughs at the absurdity of what they’re doing. Instead, he leans down to smack a kiss to Michael’s cheek, and then another to Alex’s forehead.

 

“I’ve decided I’m keeping you both,” he announces. “Which is what you said about me last night, so now we’re all officially stuck with each other. I hope you’re happy.”

 

Smiling, Alex leans in close enough that Kyle thinks he’s going to kiss him, only to bypass him entirely and go for Michael instead. He hears Michael make an appreciative noise and sees him smile dopily at Alex as he pulls away, and then it actually is his turn. Alex’s mouth closes over his, making him groan.

 

“I could get used to that,” Kyle murmurs, but before he can say anything else, Michael’s moving in. He’s more forceful than Alex, kisses more insistently, but it’s just as good and leaves Kyle feeling just as breathless.

 

“Could get used to that too,” he decides. “I think I like you guys.”

 

Reclining back against the pillows (of which he seems to possess the most of) he lets Michael stay sprawled out on top of his chest, and idly watches Alex trace patterns in circles on the other man’s back. Occasionally he trails his hand down to graze his fingers over Kyle’s stomach as well, but he always goes back to Michael.

 

“He likes to be touched,” Alex explains when he catches Kyle looking at him. “A lot.”

 

Kyle can see that, what with the way Michael seems to melt every time Alex does it, practically purring with contentment. “What else does he like?” He asks, needing to know.

 

Alex smiles, nothing but warmth in the expression. “He likes when you play with his hair,” he says, imparting the words like they’re a precious secret, “and being held. There’s other stuff too. I’ll teach you.”

 

“Just like I’ll teach you what he likes,” Michael says, picking up where Alex leaves off. Kyle shivers when he starts to press kisses onto his chest, his shoulder, his neck. Basically anywhere he can reach. “And we’ll both learn what you like.”

 

“I already told you what I like,” Kyle says simply, and this time it’s Michael who goes 

for his mouth first, while Alex is the one to follow suit when he’s done. Oh yeah, Kyle thinks as they both close in on him, he could definitely get used to this.

 

They take him apart slowly this time, as if the early hour has made them lazy, and nobody makes a move to get up when they’re done. They fall back together exactly as they were before.

 

Kyle’s just about to drift off when he distantly recalls something that had been said the night before. Against his will, his eyes snap open, and he stares up at the ceiling in dismay.

 

“Guys,” he groans, getting a matching pair of ‘hmms?’in response, “how the fuck do we explain this to my mom?”


	9. “You’re so cute when you’re half asleep like this”

There are many things Alex regrets missing out on during the first time he and Michael had been together. Their all too brief fling as teenagers had ended in pain and violence before they’d had a chance to even really get to know each other, and now ten years on, Alex finds himself wanting to have every possible experience he can get.

Normal, everyday experiences that is. He wants the date nights, and the holding hands as they walk down the street. He wants the lazy Sunday mornings where neither of them have to be anywhere, and the evenings spent curled up on the couch, watching dumb movies while simply enjoying each other’s company.

He wants it all, and, especially because he knows how much it means to Michael, he wants them to fall asleep next to each other, day in and day out. He wants that one more than most, which is why he’s always borderline giddy when he realizes he has it.

Take tonight, for instance. Alex has been out all day, dealing with a number of matters that have to be wrapped up before he’s officially no longer a member of the American military. Ordinarily, that would leave him exhausted and wanting to do nothing but crawl into his own bed and hide away from the world. Now, however, he still has every intention of crawling into bed, but not for anything remotely like hiding.

It’s late when he gets home, the dishes stacked neatly in the sink a testament to the fact that he’d told Michael not to wait up for him. The cabin is almost completely dark, and Alex stumbles a little as he makes his way to the bedroom.

Michael’s sprawled out in the centre of the bed, which is a bad habit he exhibits in the times when Alex isn’t there to preemptively claim his own side. According to him it’s because he’s never had a bed big enough to spread out in before, and the action is unintentional.

Alex knows him well enough to be positive that’s bullshit, but he never calls him out on it.

His puttering around the room while getting ready to turn in for the night does nothing to rouse Michael, but the same cannot be said for when he actually gets into bed. Try as he might to keep quiet, the simple fact of the matter is that he needs to move the other man if he’s going to have any hope at all of making enough space.

“Hmm? ‘Lex?” Michael doesn’t shift so much as an inch when he first wakes, and his voice is thick with sleep. “That you?”

“No it’s Kyle come to perform a check up at just after midnight,” Alex drawls. Deciding enough is enough, he pushes until Michael’s sliding over by about half a foot, finally giving him enough space to lay down. “Of course it’s me.”

“Good,” Michael mumbles, unconcerned with the way Alex is manhandling him. “Don’ want V’lenti in m’bed.”

“I’ll be sure to tell him you said so,” Alex promises once he’s taken a moment to translate that sentence. “No doubt he’ll be heartbroken.”

“Don’ care,” Michael informs him. Reaching back with one hand, he blindly gropes around until he finds Alex’s arm, and then proceeds to tug it over him. “S’better.”

Alex is suddenly very glad the lights are off because there’s no doubt in his mind that the smile currently gracing his features is truly ridiculous. Unable to help himself, he burrows closer to the other man.

He’s expecting that to be the end of it, what with the way Michael’s about 95% asleep, but it turns out he’s wrong, and he can feel the mattress dip as Michael squirms around to get comfortable.

“Been gone all day,” he says, or more like slurs, rather. Michael may want to talk, but Alex has to wonder how much of the conversation he’ll remember in the morning. “Do anythin’ fun?”

“No,” Alex says honestly. “Just more busywork at the base. You?”

He can practically feel Michael’s face transform into a scowl. “Izzy put us in the yard again,” he says sulkily. “Stupid bush got me with the pointy bits.”

Alex tries very hard not to laugh, but ultimately is unsuccessful. Without Noah around to bully into dealing with it, Isobel’s lawn has become extremely overgrown this spring, and for whatever reason, rather than hire someone to clean it up, she keeps coercing Max and Michael into helping her.

And by helping, he means they do all the work, while she sits on the deck making pithy comments. It’s not how he’d like to spend an afternoon, but it seems to be okay for the trio.

“Was it the same one as before?” He asks. “The one with the thorns?”

He feels it as Michael shakes his head. “Same kind, different spot. Still stupid though.”

“Of course,” Alex agrees. “Though, and I’m just throwing this out there, you might have an easier time with it if you’d just wear gloves while you worked.”

“Ugh,” Michael says succinctly. “Sound like Max.”

Since Max isn’t the one who keeps getting his hands scratched to pieces by recalcitrant perennials, Alex can’t help but feel like he should win this round. On the other hand, he’s hardly dumb enough to say so.

“How long before you’re done with it, do you figure?” He asks instead.

Michael snorts. “When Izzy says we are.”

“Fair,” Alex acknowledges. “Hopefully you still have your hands by then.”

“Tried to get Max t’heal ‘em, but he said no. Bastard. Had to fix it myself,” Michael says, sounding put out.

“What do you mean?” Alex asks, wondering if he should be concerned that Michael’s been futzing around with alien tech unsupervised again. “What did you do?”

“Got a bandaid,” is the reply. “Three actually. They have stars.”

Laughing in relief, Alex brushes a kiss over the back of his neck, feeling a few wayward curls tickle his nose. “You’re so cute when you’re half asleep like this.”

“‘M not cute,” Michael insists, a picture of affronted dignity despite his groggy state. “Badass alien cowboy, right here.”

“That’s barely even a sentence,” Alex points out, laughing again when Michael whines, but at the same time deciding they both really do need to settle in for the night. “Alright, turn around. I think it’s time to sleep for real now.”

“Hmm?” Michael asks, but he doesn’t protest when Alex uses the arm he still has wrapped around his waist to roll him over until they’re lying face to face. “Oh this is nice,” he declares. “I like this.”

Smiling helplessly, Alex lets him nuzzle into the crook of his neck, curling in like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be. “Yeah,” he agrees. “It is.”


End file.
